Chronicle of a death foretold

Editorial by Lasantha Wicrematunge - written by him to be published after his death. Why I am putting this up on my post is because he says some very very important things, to which I want to keep coming back again..

No other profession calls on its practitioners to lay down their livesfor their art save the armed forces and, in Sri Lanka, journalism. Inthe course of the past few years, the independent media haveincreasingly come under attack. Electronic and print-mediainstitutions have been burnt, bombed, sealed and coerced. Countlessjournalists have been harassed, threatened and killed. It has been myhonour to belong to all those categories and now especially the last.I have been in the business of journalism a good long time. Indeed,2009 will be The Sunday Leader's 15th year. Many things have changedin Sri Lanka during that time, and it does not need me to tell youthat the greater part of that change has been for the worse. We findourselves in the midst of a civil war ruthlessly prosecuted byprotagonists whose bloodlust knows no bounds. Terror, whetherperpetrated by terrorists or the state, has become the order of theday. Indeed, murder has become the primary tool whereby the stateseeks to control the organs of liberty. Today it is the journalists,tomorrow it will be the judges. For neither group have the risks everbeen higher or the stakes lower.Why then do we do it? I often wonder that. After all, I too am ahusband, and the father of three wonderful children. I too haveresponsibilities and obligations that transcend my profession, be itthe law or journalism. Is it worth the risk? Many people tell me it isnot. Friends tell me to revert to the bar, and goodness knows itoffers a better and safer livelihood. Others, including politicalleaders on both sides, have at various times sought to induce me totake to politics, going so far as to offer me ministries of my choice.Diplomats, recognising the risk journalists face in Sri Lanka , haveoffered me safe passage and the right of residence in their countries.Whatever else I may have been stuck for, I have not been stuck forchoice.But there is a calling that is yet above high office, fame, lucre andsecurity. It is the call of conscience.The Sunday Leader has been a controversial newspaper because we say itlike we see it: whether it be a spade, a thief or a murderer, we callit by that name. We do not hide behind euphemism. The investigativearticles we print are supported by documentary evidence thanks to thepublic-spiritedness of citizens who at great risk to themselves passon this material to us. We have exposed scandal after scandal, andnever once in these 15 years has anyone proved us wrong orsuccessfully prosecuted us.The free media serve as a mirror in which the public can see itselfsans mascara and styling gel. From us you learn the state of yournation, and especially its management by the people you elected togive your children a better future. Sometimes the image you see inthat mirror is not a pleasant one. But while you may grumble in theprivacy of your armchair, the journalists who hold the mirror up toyou do so publicly and at great risk to themselves. That is ourcalling, and we do not shirk it.Every newspaper has its angle, and we do not hide the fact that wehave ours. Our commitment is to see Sri Lanka as a transparent,secular, liberal democracy. Think about those words, for they each hasprofound meaning. Transparent because government must be openlyaccountable to the people and never abuse their trust. Secular becausein a multi-ethnic and multi-cultural society such as ours, secularismoffers the only common ground by which we might all be united. Liberalbecause we recognise that all human beings are created different, andwe need to accept others for what they are and not what we would likethem to be. And democratic... well, if you need me to explain why thatis important, you'd best stop buying this paper.The Sunday Leader has never sought safety by unquestioninglyarticulating the majority view. Let's face it that is the way to sellnewspapers. On the contrary, as our opinion pieces over the yearsamply demonstrate, we often voice ideas that many people finddistasteful. For example, we have consistently espoused the view thatwhile separatist terrorism must be eradicated, it is more important toaddress the root causes of terrorism, and urged government to view SriLanka 's ethnic strife in the context of history and not through thetelescope of terrorism. We have also agitated against state terrorismin the so-called war against terror, and made no secret of our horrorthat Sri Lanka is the only country in the world routinely to bomb itsown citizens. For these views we have been labeled traitors, and ifthis be treachery, we wear that label proudly.Many people suspect that The Sunday Leader has a political agenda: itdoes not. If we appear more critical of the government than of theopposition it is only because we believe that - pray excuse cricketingargot - there is no point in bowling to the fielding side. Rememberthat for the few years of our existence in which the UNP was inoffice, we proved to be the biggest thorn in its flesh, exposingexcess and corruption wherever it occurred. Indeed, the steady streamof embarrassing expos's we published may well have served toprecipitate the downfall of that government.Neither should our distaste for the war be interpreted to mean that wesupport the Tigers. The LTTE are among the most ruthless andbloodthirsty organisations ever to have infested the planet. There isno gainsaying that it must be eradicated. But to do so by violatingthe rights of Tamil citizens, bombing and shooting them mercilessly,is not only wrong but shames the Sinhalese, whose claim to becustodians of the dhamma is forever called into question by thissavagery, much of which is unknown to the public because ofcensorship.What is more, a military occupation of the country's north and eastwill require the Tamil people of those regions to live eternally assecond-class citizens, deprived of all self respect. Do not imaginethat you can placate them by showering "development" and"reconstruction" on them in the post-war era. The wounds of war willscar them forever, and you will also have an even more bitter andhateful Diaspora to contend with. A problem amenable to a politicalsolution will thus become a festering wound that will yield strife forall eternity. If I seem angry and frustrated, it is only because mostof my countrymen - and all of the government - cannot see this writingso plainly on the wall.It is well known that I was on two occasions brutally assaulted, whileon another my house was sprayed with machine-gun fire. Despite thegovernment's sanctimonious assurances, there was never a seriouspolice inquiry into the perpetrators of these attacks, and theattackers were never apprehended. In all these cases, I have reason tobelieve the attacks were inspired by the government. When finally I amkilled, it will be the government that kills me.The irony in this is that, unknown to most of the public, Mahinda andI have been friends for more than a quarter century. Indeed, I suspectthat I am one of the few people remaining who routinely addresses himby his first name and uses the familiar Sinhala address oya whentalking to him. Although I do not attend the meetings he periodicallyholds for newspaper editors, hardly a month passes when we do notmeet, privately or with a few close friends present, late at night atPresident's House. There we swap yarns, discuss politics and jokeabout the good old days. A few remarks to him would therefore be inorder here.Mahinda, when you finally fought your way to the SLFP presidentialnomination in 2005, nowhere were you welcomed more warmly than in thiscolumn. Indeed, we broke with a decade of tradition by referring toyou throughout by your first name. So well known were your commitmentsto human rights and liberal values that we ushered you in like abreath of fresh air. Then, through an act of folly, you got yourselfinvolved in the Helping Hambantota scandal. It was after a lot ofsoul-searching that we broke the story, at the same time urging you toreturn the money. By the time you did so several weeks later, a greatblow had been struck to your reputation. It is one you are stilltrying to live down.You have told me yourself that you were not greedy for the presidency.You did not have to hanker after it: it fell into your lap. You havetold me that your sons are your greatest joy, and that you lovespending time with them, leaving your brothers to operate themachinery of state. Now, it is clear to all who will see that thatmachinery has operated so well that my sons and daughter do notthemselves have a father.In the wake of my death I know you will make all the usualsanctimonious noises and call upon the police to hold a swift andthorough inquiry. But like all the inquiries you have ordered in thepast, nothing will come of this one, too. For truth be told, we bothknow who will be behind my death, but dare not call his name. Not justmy life, but yours too, depends on it.Sadly, for all the dreams you had for our country in your youngerdays, in just three years you have reduced it to rubble. In the nameof patriotism you have trampled on human rights, nurtured unbridledcorruption and squandered public money like no other President beforeyou. Indeed, your conduct has been like a small child suddenly letloose in a toyshop. That analogy is perhaps inapt because no childcould have caused so much blood to be spilled on this land as youhave, or trampled on the rights of its citizens as you do. Althoughyou are now so drunk with power that you cannot see it, you will cometo regret your sons having so rich an inheritance of blood. It canonly bring tragedy. As for me, it is with a clear conscience that I goto meet my Maker. I wish, when your time finally comes, you could dothe same. I wish.As for me, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I walked tall andbowed to no man. And I have not travelled this journey alone. Fellowjournalists in other branches of the media walked with me: most ofthem are now dead, imprisoned without trial or exiled in far-offlands. Others walk in the shadow of death that your Presidency hascast on the freedoms for which you once fought so hard. You will neverbe allowed to forget that my death took place under your watch. Asanguished as I know you will be, I also know that you will have nochoice but to protect my killers: you will see to it that the guiltyone is never convicted. You have no choice. I feel sorry for you, andShiranthi will have a long time to spend on her knees when next shegoes for Confession for it is not just her own sins which she mustconfess, but those of her extended family that keeps you in office.As for the readers of The Sunday Leader, what can I say but Thank Youfor supporting our mission. We have espoused unpopular causes, stoodup for those too feeble to stand up for themselves, locked horns withthe high and mighty so swollen with power that they have forgottentheir roots, exposed corruption and the waste of your hard-earned taxrupees, and made sure that whatever the propaganda of the day, youwere allowed to hear a contrary view. For this I - and my family -have now paid the price that I have long known I will one day have topay. I am - and have always been - ready for that. I have done nothingto prevent this outcome: no security, no precautions. I want mymurderer to know that I am not a coward like he is, hiding behindhuman shields while condemning thousands of innocents to death. Whatam I among so many? It has long been written that my life would betaken, and by whom. All that remains to be written is when.That The Sunday Leader will continue fighting the good fight, too, iswritten. For I did not fight this fight alone. Many more of us have tobe - and will be - killed before The Leader is laid to rest. I hope myassassination will be seen not as a defeat of freedom but aninspiration for those who survive to step up their efforts. Indeed, Ihope that it will help galvanise forces that will usher in a new eraof human liberty in our beloved motherland. I also hope it will openthe eyes of your President to the fact that however many areslaughtered in the name of patriotism, the human spirit will endureand flourish. Not all the Rajapakses combined can kill that.People often ask me why I take such risks and tell me it is a matterof time before I am bumped off. Of course I know that: it isinevitable. But if we do not speak out now, there will be no one leftto speak for those who cannot, whether they be ethnic minorities, thedisadvantaged or the persecuted. An example that has inspired methroughout my career in journalism has been that of the Germantheologian, Martin Niem"ller. In his youth he was an anti-Semite andan admirer of Hitler. As Nazism took hold in Germany, however, he sawNazism for what it was: it was not just the Jews Hitler sought toextirpate, it was just about anyone with an alternate point of view.Niem"ller spoke out, and for his trouble was incarcerated in theSachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1937 to 1945, andvery nearly executed. While incarcerated, Niem"ller wrote a poem that,from the first time I read it in my teenage years, stuck hauntingly inmy mind:First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.Then they came for the Communistsand I did not speak out because I was not a Communist.Then they came for the trade unionistsand I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.Then they came for meand there was no one left to speak out for me.If you remember nothing else, remember this: The Leader is there foryou, be you Sinhalese, Tamil, Muslim, low-caste, homosexual, dissidentor disabled. Its staff will fight on, unbowed and unafraid, with thecourage to which you have become accustomed. Do not take thatcommitment for granted. Let there be no doubt that whatever sacrificeswe journalists make, they are not made for our own glory orenrichment: they are made for you. Whether you deserve their sacrificeis another matter. As for me, God knows I tried.Lasantha Wickrematunge

And curtains on 2008

So here's quick wrap-up on the fanatstic last week of 2008 that I spent in Calcutta. Here are the things I did:

• Ate my favourite Bong food time and time again..so on certain days I had luchi for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I also had Ilish Mach twice and chingri maach many many times.
• Ate out twice, both times with Maa and Baba. First time was at this place called Orko's at City Centre..satisfactory food, and second was at Floatel on 1st Jan. Food was good, especially since I love continental, and secondly because it was on a refurbished steamer on the Ganga which was great fun..especially when Baba and Maa were really really happy to see the river and get some excellent river breeze. Took some lovely snaps too.
• Had a joint B'day celebration of Maa and Fulmama on 2nd Jan at Golpark and it was so much fun!! Had lovely Kolkata biriyani (somehow I just don't seem to enjoy biriyani anywhere else in the country), and then they both cut a cake together (which was Kookie Jar, another thing I desperately miss in Delhi), which was followed by chinese dinner from Hatari (simple, no frills chinese at reasonable rates). Oh and we had a great time hearing about growing up stories from Shejomama, Fulmama, Tunumashi and Maa, the highpoint being the number of admirers these two sisters had. Both of them went blue in the face denying any attachment to any member of the opposite sex unrelated by blood.
• Managed to catch Tintorettor Jishu. A was super-happy to know that his and Feluda's arrival timings in Kolkata have managed to click once more, and I was happy to simly wallow in nostalgia.
• Went to Belur Math with A, Maa and Baba. Good place but just too crowded. Oh well, this is Kolkata that I am talking about.
• Got a haircut (not happy with it though)
• Took A shopping since Maa wanted to buy him jeans. Shopping with him is painless:he walks into a store, picks up a pair, tries it on, pays for it and comes out. I have never ever seen him suffer from the shopping anxities that I go through where I spend an hour to come back to exactly the same thing that I had rejected.
• Bought two books (Premendra Mitra and Saradindu). The reason why I bought Premendra Mitra is that the book is a collection of his books that were turned into films, scripted by him, and I still can't get over my shivers of watching 'Chupi Chupi Ashe' and 'Hanabari' on DD 7.
• Took Maa to CCD for the first time, hearing which Baba complained about how he had to go without coffee since we had gone without him.

All in all, an eventful week.

Music Room

Continuing with my efforts to list out the books that I will read this year. I am currently reading The Music Room and I am loving it. The book lovingly traces the guru-shishya relationship between Dhondutai, one of the last great exponents of Jaipur Gharana of Hindustani classical music, the only disciple of Kesarbai Kerkar who spends her life in dingy one room chawls across Bombay, often on a hand to mouth existence, and who dreams of spreading her lovingly learned craft through her shishya Namita who has written this book. This book is a tribute to the now dying-out guru shishya parampara that used to define learning in India many many years ago. Often sad, but more often than that seriously uplifting, Dhondutai's life story is a tribute to the scores of nameless singers who have clung to their art forms through decay and deprivation. The book has a charming anecdote to illustrate this about Akbar and Tansen, in which Tansen takes Akbar to meet his guru who lives in a hut inside a forest. Akbar listens in rapt attention to Tansen's guruji and then turns towards him and asks why he can never sing like that. And Tansen replies, 'that's because I sing for you, and he sings for God'.

Today to come to my blog I typed in Google and when it showed the search results, I had a strange feeling. I do not quite know how to describe it....it showed something created by me in front of my own eyes, and I had goosebumps all over me at that moment....that I was the creator of this entity, that my thoughts and ramblings had the potential of reaching out to millions at the click of a button, that I was powerful in a way that I can barely begin to imagine..

some highlights of 2008

1. best memories:- London trip
2. saddest memories:-leaving our lovely Ballygunge Circular Road aprtment.
3. Film that I loved:- Chungking Express
4. was glad about:- that I could see Tintorettor Jishu on big screen (amongst many other things of course) and that we finally finally managed a trip to Corbett after years of planning.
5. one lesson learnt:- live one day at a time.
6. one book I didnt want to finish:-Case of Exploding Mangoes
7. one thing that set my teeth on edge:- how we continued to utterly neglect the deaths at CST, as if they had never been.
8. one good thing that I started in 2008:- start this blog.
9. one good thing that I didnt start in 2008:- take up long-distance running.

I have been travelling like crazy since October so I just thought I'll write down the number of places that I have covered in these 3 months just in case I look back on 2008 some day and then don't believe that I was once that much of a traveller:
London, Bangalore, Kolkata, Patna, Muzzaffarpur, Bhopal, Nairobi, Dubai, Jaipur, Dharamshala, Dalhousie, Chamba, Hrishikesh, Kolkata (again) and Delhi.

And some other notable books that I have read in 2008:

1. The White Tiger: Can't claim this book as great literature but if one facet of literature is also to make an attempt to steer our consciousness towards a life that we pass by on streets everyday but do not engage ourselves with, then yes, Adiga does a great job. I think all of us must read it since its' not fiction. The simmering discontent of a large no of people that the malls outshine is alive beneath the surface, and very much so.
2. The Red Sun:- I am still reading it..my fascination with understanding Naxal movement in India continues to grow with this book, no wonder abetted by the fact that I spent more than two years working in Purulia and West Midnapore. Again a mus read.
3. The Other Bolyen Girl:- History and fiction merge seamlessly..but please don't watch the film.
4. A long way home:- autobiography of a child soldier of Sierra Leone Ishmael Beah-what war does to the best of us.

I have decided to write down the names of books that I am reading currently, in order to keep a tab on my reading habits and make sure that I am reading enough. So here's a list of the last 4 books that I picked up and finished from Eloor:

1. Diary of a Manhattan Call girl: now I dont know in which category exactly to put this..with its often dark undertones of the girl who knows that her career choice would be that of a call girl since she was 8 years old is neither fluffy enough for a chick-lit, nor is it high-brow lit..but a breezy fast read.
2. The Zoya Factor:- How I wish I could be sixteen again and read TZF and have lovely dreams in the night about marrying the super-sexy Indian world cup winning cricket team captain who would look past my beauty (or rather the lack of it) and would actually notice the inner beauty which would mean that he would ignore all Miss Indias and instead would come straight into my arms..sometimes growing up isnt so much fun.
3. Marrying Anita:- a disappointing read..with the author trying hard to establish the fact that due to the amazing recovery done by the Indian economy post 1991 there's no difference between men in NY and Guragon. Didnt we know that already? At least it could have been better written.
4. The Moth Smoke:- Pakistani authors seem to be my flavour of the season..suddenly I want to grab anything written by Mohsin Hamid and Md Hanif and Moni Mohsin. I am itching to read The Reluctant Fundamentalist now. I believe strongly that to understand a country one must read its literature..therefore Afghanistan would always mean the Kite Runner to me, Iran through Persepolis and Reading Lolita, Japan through writings of Haruki Murakami and Turkey through Orhan Pamuk..who else..I liked Moth Smoke